The Faerie Path (19 page)

“The Oriole Glass is bound by many enchantments. That is how the Isenmort weapon was allowed to pass into Faerie.”

“Good,” said Tania. “Now, show me the way to the dungeons.” She hefted the sword. “I’m going to use this to smash the Amber Ball that Edric is trapped inside.”

Eden’s eyes gleamed. “Indeed, it may well suffice. Come, I shall guide you there.”

She led Tania from the room, keeping well away from the sword. Tania followed the slender hooded figure through the low archway and up the narrow stairs. They came to a bleak stone corridor, then passed through a door and down an even longer staircase of raw stone that ended at another low wooden doorway.

“Gabriel told me you’d gone mad,” Tania said as they entered a dark corridor.

Eden smiled bleakly. “It would have suited his purposes to have you believe so,” she said. “But fear not, Tania. I have not lost my wits.” She sighed, speaking in a low voice, as if to herself. “Oft have I wished it were otherwise in the long watches of the night!”

They were in a part of the palace that Tania did not recognize—gloomy hallways and corridors of chill, bare stone without light or windows. There was another door, barred with a length of stout oak. Tania
noticed that the door had no handle. Eden paused, muttering a few words and passing her hands in a complex pattern over the door.

It swung open silently into an ominous flickering half-light.

They came into a bare stone corridor hung with flaming torches. The ceiling was low, just high enough for Tania to walk upright. Eden had to stoop.

A man in black stepped out of a dark niche in the wall. He held a long pike in his hands. The sharpened crystal tip glinted.

“Who approaches the dungeons?”

Eden stepped up to him.

“Do you not know me?” she demanded

The man stared at her in confusion. “Yes, my lady.”

“That is well,” Eden said. “Sleep now, and dream of better places than this!” She reached out and touched his forehead with her fingers. He stiffened and became still, his glassy eyes staring past her shoulder as she turned to Tania.

“He will not awaken for many hours.”

Tania went up to the frozen man. She waved her hand in front of his eyes. She grinned at Eden. “That’s pretty cool!” she said. “You’ll have to show me how that works some time.” She looked carefully at her. “I thought you’d stopped using your powers. I was told that you haven’t used them for a long time…not since Titania drowned.”

Eden looked at her, and the horror and the
anguish in her eyes sent shivers down Tania’s spine.

“The Queen did not drown,” Eden said in a low voice. “Her death did not come by water, Tania. It was I who brought her to her untimely end. I killed our mother.”

Tania backed away from her sister, gripping the sword tightly in both hands. She had seen how easily Eden had dealt with that guard, putting him into a frozen sleep with just the touch of her fingers. If Eden was going to try anything like that on her, she’d have to get past the sword first.

“But I thought she drowned,” she said uneasily.

“No, she did not drown.” Eden sighed and drew back the hood of her cloak. Tania gasped. Eden’s long, thick hair was snow white. “Do not fear me, Tania,” she begged. “I meant no harm to our mother, and I have lived five hundred years in guilt and remorse for what I did.”

“What happened?”

“The Queen and I spoke long with Rathina after you had disappeared,” Eden said. “You played a foolish and a dangerous game that night, Tania. We
guessed that you had stepped into the Mortal World and that you could not find a pathway back.” She frowned. “You never should have attempted to walk between the worlds without seeking guidance first. Such powers are perilous indeed to the unwise and the untutored.”

“I know that
now
,” Tania said. “It’s a pity no one thought to mention it at the time.”

“Aye.” Eden sighed. “We were remiss. I should have known better. You were ever an impetuous and wayward child.”

“Go on,” Tania urged.

“Our mother wished to pursue you into the Mortal World. But the King had forbidden it, terrified of losing anyone else he loved. So the Queen came to me secretly, knowing me to be well-practiced in the Mystic Arts. At first I refused. But the Queen was adamant, and so I relented.” Her eyes closed tightly. “I summoned up the spirits of the Oriole Glass and constructed a charm of black amber for the Queen to wear. As long as she kept the charm about her throat, I would be able to draw her back. One last time, I begged her not to go, but she would not listen. She stepped into the light and was gone.” Eden put her hands to her face. “I heard her scream, and when the light faded, I saw that the amber stone—the protecting charm—had fallen from her throat and lay on the floor at my feet.”

“What did you do?” Tania whispered.

“Many times I opened the portal again in the vain
hope that our mother would be able to find her way home,” she said. “But it was not to be. She is lost, indeed, and I fear that she was destroyed in her attempt to find you.” She took a shuddering breath. “I dreaded the King’s wrath, so I told the tale of a boating accident. And upon that day, when our father’s grief caused time to stop, I renounced forever my powers and all my Arts. And so it would have remained had Gabriel Drake not come crawling to my door with his velvet threats.”

“Gabriel again!” Tania muttered. “What did he do this time?”

“He guessed the truth about our mother’s death from my decision to abandon the Mystic Arts. I knew nothing of his dark ambitions when he came begging me to open the Oriole Glass. All I knew was that he was desperate to find you and bring you back. I thought he acted out of love, but nevertheless, I refused to aid him. Then he threatened to tell the King the truth unless I did as he bade, and so I yielded to him. Even then, I would not work for him, but I showed him how to open the Oriole Window and how to construct the protecting pendants.” She shuddered. “And then, patient as a spider, he watched and waited and brooded all the long years of our desolation until at last he found you and sent his servant through the glass to bring you back.”

Tania let out a long, pent-up breath. “He’s power-mad, isn’t he?” she murmured. “He’ll do anything to get what he wants!” She squeezed the sword hilt
in her bandaged fingers. “But he’s not going to get away with it,” she vowed. She looked at Eden. Her face was white and drawn, and she seemed worn down by the effort of confiding her agonizing, long-hidden secrets.

“Show me where to find Edric,” Tania said. “Let’s get this over with.”

Eden nodded and led her farther along the grim corridor until they came to a glittering door that seemed to be made of smooth black stone.

“This is the Adamantine Gate,” Eden said. “You will find all that you seek beyond its portals.” She looked at Tania. “But it is bound about with deadly invocations; no person may enter who does not know the words of power and protection. I have never needed to open this door, but I believe I know the words.” She stepped close to the door and began to murmur under her breath.

Tania stood back, watching her. Several minutes seemed to pass, but still the door didn’t open. Tania bit her lip. The longer this took, the more chance there was that Gabriel or his wardens would find them.

Eden’s voice grew louder, speaking lilting words that Tania didn’t understand. She made a double-handed pushing motion toward the door. The floor quivered under Tania’s feet, but the door remained closed.

“I fear that Gabriel Drake has placed stronger closing incantations on the door,” Eden said. “I have not
worked these Arts for many years. I will need more time.”

“I’m not sure we have more time,” Tania said, glaring at the door. “Could you get out of the way, please? I want to see what a little touch of Isenmort will do!”

Eden stepped aside. Tania hefted the sword in both hands, lifting it over her head. She planted her feet wide apart and balanced herself for the swing. “Three, two, one, go!” she shouted. She brought the sword down on the black door. It glanced off with a ringing clang, sending shock waves up her arms and nearly throwing her off her feet.

There was a smell like bad eggs and a spurt of oily black smoke that jetted into the air like squid ink. The door fell open.

Eden stared into the black void with wide, horrified eyes.

“Let’s go,” Tania said, stepping over the threshold.

Eden didn’t move.

Tania looked back at her. “What’s wrong?”

“It is an evil place. I cannot go inside,” Eden said. “But I will remain here and guard the entrance. I will make sure that no wardens come this way.” She looked at Tania. “But beware, there may be other guards within.” Her voice became sharp. “Go, quickly!”

Tania nodded. “I won’t be long.” She peered into the utter blackness beyond the open doorway. “Can I borrow your lantern?”

“Yes, indeed. Take it and fare you well.”

Tania took the lantern from Eden’s outstretched hand.

“Here goes,” she breathed. She held the lantern at arm’s length in her left hand, the sword clasped in her right.

She was met with a bitterly cold draft of sour and fetid air. She did her best to ignore the smell. If a bad stink was the worst thing she encountered down here, then she’d be very lucky indeed.

“So far so good,” she called back to Eden. There was no reply.

She walked deeper into the dungeon. The beam from the lantern trailed over dank, dripping walls of black stone. The corridor was low, with a barrel roof that barely gave her room to walk upright.

The passage ended in a small circular chamber with a round ceiling. Tunnels led off in several directions. Shivering with cold, she picked an exit at random.

Then she hesitated. She had no idea how far this dungeon went beneath the palace, and she wasn’t about to let herself get lost down there. She had to make sure that she could find her way back. She would have to leave some mark. Putting the lantern on the ground, she used the point of her sword to carve a crude arrow into the stonework.

She found herself in another passageway, broader and with a higher ceiling than the first. The walls of this tunnel were pocked with shadowy niches, shoulder-width passageways three or four yards deep. Approach
ing one of them, Tania saw that a great black sphere hovered motionless in the air at the far end of the niche. The sphere was coated with filth and tattered cobwebs, but as she drew closer, she made out a faint yellowish light coming from inside the ball. She stared deeper into the sphere. Under the scab of grime, she saw the inert, crouched figure of a man.

She stepped back with an appalled gasp. The black globe was an Amber Prison. How long had it been there? Years? Centuries? What crime had that man committed that warranted such a dreadful punishment?

Shuddering, she carried on along the tunnel. Many of the dark niches were empty, to her relief, but still too many contained the awful black spheres—ancient Amber Prisons that had been left there to rot in the dreadful silence.

She came to another place where tunnels met and branched off. She gnawed her lower lip, staring into the half-circles of blackness. The place was huge. How would she ever find Edric?

“I have to find him,” she muttered aloud. “I’m going to search until I do, and that’s all there is to it.”

She picked a tunnel, scratched her arrow on the stones, and continued her search.

Not all the Amber Prisons were in the same state of decay. Some were pitch black, but others still had a pale light in them. And occasionally she came across one where the trapped figure was clearly visible, outlined in the orange glow. Those were the worst,
because she could see the agonized faces of the victims staring at her with their unseeing eyes. She learned not to look too carefully at those spheres. She just gave them a quick glance to make sure it was not Edric inside, then moved onward into the foul darkness—and onward and onward forever and ever and ever….

“How long have I been in here?” she breathed, resting for a moment. Minutes? Hours? Time meant nothing down here. Her arm ached with holding up the lantern, and the sword dragged at her right hand. She was chilled to the bone, and her legs were starting to shake with tiredness. Much more of this, and she would just sink to the ground and give up.

“Edric!” she shouted, but her voice was swallowed up by the blackness. “Edric, where are you?”

…and Juliet is my sun…

“I wish I was,” she mumbled. “I could use a bit of sunlight down here.” She tightened her grip on the sword and walked down yet another of those vile tunnels.

She counted her steps to try and get some indication of time and distance. One hundred paces. Two hundred. Another junction. Another scratched arrow. Another tunnel. One hundred. Two hundred.

And then, stumbling along in a weary daze, she suddenly noticed an amber glow ahead of her that was stronger than anything she had seen so far.

Edric? Please let it be Edric.

Her heart thudding, she ran forward.

The light was seeping out of one of the niches. Hardly daring to hope she might have found him at last, Tania peered around the corner. The amber sphere glowed so brightly, she couldn’t look at it for long—but she saw enough to recognize the face that gazed emptily out at her, clawed hands still snatching at nothing.

“I did it!” she whispered.

Tania put the lantern on the ground and stretched her left hand toward the thrumming yellow surface. The amber was quite cold now. She pressed her hand against it, staring at Edric’s face.

“I found you!” she murmured. “I knew I would.”

She stepped back from the globe, holding the sword in both hands.

“How am I going to do this without hurting you?” she said aloud.

And then she was aware of a new light—a hot, red flickering light coming from directly behind her.

“Halt, intruder into the forbidden place! Your life is forfeit!”

She glanced around in time to see the heavy, knobbed head of a crystal mace swinging toward her. She tried to duck, but the mace caught her a glancing blow on the side of her head and she stumbled to the floor, the sword springing out of her hands and clattering across the stones.

She lay on her back, her head throbbing with pain. A man in black livery stood over her, a flaming torch in one hand, the mace lifted for a second blow.